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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141927">The Queen's Tower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeachgrove/pseuds/thepeachgrove'>thepeachgrove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frozen (Disney Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Easy Read, F/F, Frozen AU, Might get steamy, Unrelated Anna/Elsa (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:55:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeachgrove/pseuds/thepeachgrove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna, the daughter of convicted traitors, is left chained in the Queen's personal apartments. Unsure of why she is still alive, she finds herself alone to wonder if she awaits a particularly horrific execution by the hands of the most powerful monarch in the world...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anna/Elsa (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Princess by the Vanity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An AU where Elsa conquered the world, and Anna is a lowly princess of a family who’d opposed the empress. This is an extremely casual write, the blossoming of a stray thought I had while writing for my other fic. But I thought it was still worth an upload, or several. </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p><b>TRIGGER WARNINGS: </b>Suggestive clothing and suicidal thoughts.</p><p><br/>
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  <em> "Her family betrayed the Crown, and now she was here—alone and abed—in the Queen’s royal apartments." </em>
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  <b>The breezes shifted the sheer canopies. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Anna repositioned herself on the bed, propping herself up by one arm and watching as the fabrics swayed back and forth. Servants had come earlier that evening to stir the fireplace and open the balcony door, through which Anna fantasized a daring escape. The servant had noticed the princess’s longing gaze, and smiled sadly, telling her that she was far too high above the ground to attempt anything unwise. </p><p>After that, when the servant left, Anna had contemplated suicide. These were dark and seeping thoughts that teased sweetly from the corners of her mind. The voice in her head suspected the fall to be painless, and in the end, she would be welcomed into the afterlife by her family. But death-by-falling was impossible — she was shackled by cuff and chain. The cuff was comfortable and cushioned, and the chain itself was thin and weightless, though completely unbreakable, at least by her strength. Anna had spent the first several hours captive in the chambers wrenching and straining against the shackle. She could not get it, nor the metal sphere it was attached to, to budge the slightest inch. </p><p>She was placed here early in the day, and now it was late evening, and she was still alone. At first, Anna had been afraid. Of course she’d been afraid. </p><p>Her family betrayed the Crown, and now she was here—alone and abed—in the Queen’s royal apartments.</p><p>Anna did not quite know what to expect. Would the Queen come and exact a more personal vengeance on the daughter of her betrayers? Would she torture her long into the night, cursing her Name and laugh in derision as the princess begged for death? Restless, Anna left the bed and roamed the grand chamber for the umpteenth time that day. </p><p>A hearth crackled at one side of the room, two comfortable-looking lounge chairs facing it, one long and meant for lying down. The floor was paneled wood, carpeted by lush weavings of traditional northern patterns. A slender longsword hung on the wall, sheathed and shiny, though the hilt was nicked here and there by its many battles. There was a short doorless corridor that led to another spacious chamber: a study, whose walls were lined with books and scrolls and whose desk was littered with parchments. Anna had not suspected the empress to be the academic sort. </p><p>The curious thing about the chain was that it allowed her to roam the furthest reaches of the apartments but only came short at the balcony door. Some clever enchantment, suspected the princess. </p><p>She glanced over covers of books scattered over the desk: <em> Astrological Studies, Accounts of the Whitmore Incident, The Pilgrimage of Ten Thousand Steps. </em>Besides the books were widespread papers that depicted, what seemed to be, the anatomy of a telescope. </p><p>Encouraged by boredom and anxiety, Anna had read almost every title of every book in the study. Many of them were historical accounts of famous murders, others were books of science and magic, old grimoires and frayed spell tomes sat beside archeological biographies and extensive mathematical formulae. When Anna had first passed through the study, she’d resolved that this must’ve been the office of the empress’s royal scholar. But then she noticed the small, cursive handwriting of notes stuck between pages, signed by a runic <b>E. </b>— the signature of the Queen. </p><p>Anna bent over to examine the bosom sculpture of a stern-looking bearded man. </p><p>“Hello…” She read the bronze label at the statue’s foundation, “... Professor Erikur Baldwin. I think I’m going to die tonight.” </p><p>She recalled a time, for a moment, when she’d invented conversations with the handsome men and fairy-like women in her palace’s gallery, as a result of childhood seclusion. </p><p>“What a place to die, though, hm?”  Anna spun around to face the tall circular room. “In the empress’s own personal apartments. If I were not her enemy, I think I’d be honored!” </p><p>Of course, Anna had not known she was the empress’s enemy until her family enacted the attack. </p><p>She left the study behind, reentering the bedchamber and stopping at the vanity. The nightdress she wore was white and short. The servants had taken all of her jewelry,  even her family brooch, which she had treasured since it was given to her as a little girl. Its absence felt odd. The piece had always been her favorite, and she’d worn it to every event she’d ever attended. </p><p>Absently, Anna felt the feminine curve of her hips. She was a petite girl, just coming into early adulthood, and pretty. A month ago, she’d been arranged to marry that young and handsome Westergaard. Now, she was sure, Hans might be imprisoned or executed with the rest of her family. The thought had always brought a lump to her throat and a quiver to her chest, and so she’d successfully avoided thinking about it all day. </p><p>Sighing and cursing softly to herself, Anna turned away, finding her own appearance unbearable. She stopped, hand flying to her chest. The door was opening. </p><p>Anna’s heart hammered with a renewed terror. The moment she’d dreaded since her family was condemned was finally here. She backed away until she touched the edge of the vanity, unsure of whether to flee or remain there, still as the statue in the Queen’s study. </p><p>The door remained half-way open for a moment, beyond it a quiet exchanging of whispers. Finally, one of the voices raised above the other. Anna recognized it as the Queen’s. </p><p>“Enough. Our dialogue will continue tomorrow.” She said. “Now, I shall retire. Goodnight, Arch-Mage.” </p><p>And within the second required between one breath and the next, the door opened completely and was shut briskly behind the High Queen of the Solastine Empire. </p><p>She had not yet noticed the princess, leaning back against the door and closing her eyes. Her head was not adorned by the crown of ice she wore at the trial and execution of the Frodes and Westergaards. A black peplos fell off of cream-white shoulders, the skirts slitting up to her thighs. The amount of skin on display would have been considered scandalous back in Anna’s homeland. An embroidered belt of silver and sapphires hung from exquisite hips, and her feet were sandaled in the Old Solastinean fashion. </p><p>Anna did not — could not — move. She was rooted in place, unable to breathe, whether by fear or awe she could not tell.</p><p>A sigh huffed from the Queen, the sound of weary respite, and she pushed from the door. In a single effortless motion her hand raised to the back of her wraparound braid, pulling out a hairpin with practiced ease. Her braid fell over her shoulder, and as the Queen strode for the balcony, ran her fingers through her snowy locks. </p><p>Before she crossed the room, however, she was stopped by the metal ball that anchored Anna, her toes just barely touching it. The Queen stared at it for a second, uncomprehending, and with her eyes she followed the silvery chain on its winding path to the princess by the vanity. </p><p>She seemed luminescent, like summer, in the warm glow cast by the hearth, her supple lips parted and beautiful blue eyes alive and swimming with a churning maelstrom of emotions. </p><p>The Queen blinked, once, twice, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop slightly. Anna recalled how cold it was at the Trial, when her mother, father, uncles, aunts, and other conspirators were sentenced to death for treason. She could see her own breath, then, so terrible was the Queen's rage. She had not seen the Queen herself. Not until now. </p><p>A gulf of silence expanded between them, both of them unmoving. Anna felt herself jolt when the Queen finally spoke, brow creasing. </p><p> </p><p>"Who the <em> hell </em> are you?" </p><p><br/>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Sovereign in the Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all very much for all of the positive feedback. I’m very flattered and couldn’t stop myself from tapping away on this next piece :) enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p><b>TRIGGER WARNINGS: </b>Graphic depictions of death (asphyxiation) of characters some people may like </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "How grand your hubris, how complete your comfort, to think yourself impervious to the world." </em>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>"Let me die by my wife." </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The Queen studied the sunken face of the king. His hands were chained, fists clenched, eyes almost devoid of everything. He was a defeated man, just as he was a defeated king. </p><p>Crows, avid spectators of the executions, cried from their perch upon the hanging posts. Bodies were already piled on a cart that was now being wheeled away; what remained of the Westergaards and their abusive reign over the southern holds. Now, it was time for the Frodes, and the Heads of the House were first presented to the Queen. </p><p>The Arendellan queen was a sad sight as well, head dipped and rolling with every jostle from the guard. She was barely conscious where she stood, eyes rooted on the runnels of rainwater cut through the mud. </p><p>"I never wanted this, Agnarr." Said the High Queen. "The Frodes have been allies of the Solastines since the birth of this empire. You were close with my own father. He…" She hesitated, "... Spoke highly of you." </p><p>Agnarr bowed his head. Was that shame? But no, when he raised his head again to look at the Queen, his face had contorted into disdain. </p><p>“Lars was my king.” He seethed through clenched teeth. “I supported his reign until the day his illness took him. His death was a tragedy that quaked the kingdoms. I <em> mourned him. </em>”</p><p>The Queen watched him silently as Agnarr continued, his anger bubbling out like boiling water. </p><p>“The reign of High King Lars was long, and good, and his passing was unjust. But you…” Agnarr pushed himself against the guard who held him. “The day I watched you take the cruciger and sceptre, this strange, meek <em> witch </em>he raised in secrecy, I saw what Solastine would become. I saw a future carved in fire and ice. I saw the end of a hundred and seven peace treaties!”</p><p>“Agnarr.” The Queen caught herself turning her father’s ring in her palm. Even though it had been worn on the emperor’s little finger, the band of woven gold and bronze could not even fit on her thumb. And so she held it whenever she could. Even as a new ring was forged, she held it. “The histories will remember you as Agnarr the Betrayer, Agnarr the Would-Be Usurper.”</p><p>The renounced king was shaking his head, face twisting into a sneer, his breath becoming plumes as the day grew frigid. </p><p>The Queen pressed on, not looking away from his eyes. “May the Name Frode be struck from the records. Your lands, your wealth, and your title as regional King of Arendelle are now forfeit to the Crown.”</p><p>The king strained against the guards as they began to drag him and his wife to the executioner’s platform. Onlookers, members of the court and respected councilmen of the State, gazed on in grim satisfaction. Agnarr struggled and fought, cursing and spitting. Iduna went willingly, as though she were already dead.</p><p>The light showers became fluttering snow. Councilmen frowned up at the change of weather, some lifting their hands to feel the flakes of snow on their palms. Few thought much of it. Winter was not so far off. </p><p>“Your crown is broken!” Elsa raised her voice to a shout as Agnarr became more distant. “Your family is condemned to death!" </p><p>A noose was fitted over the heads and around the necks of the dishonored couple. Agnarr, still fighting his bindings, turned to his wife, who did nothing but fixate herself on the wood panels of the platform. </p><p>"Agnarr, Iduna!" The fabrics of the Queen's black dress billowed with the growing winds, though she betrayed no signs of discomfort from the cold, a sovereign amid snow. "What say you on your last breath?" </p><p>When it was clear to him that his wife could not bear to look at him, the former king turned his piercing glower on the spectators, from Minister of War to the Secretary of the Archives, and finally to the High Queen Herself. </p><p>When he spoke, he spoke to the Queen. </p><p>"How grand your hubris, how complete your comfort, to think yourself impervious to the world. I draw comfort in knowing that one day, you will behold a fitting downfall to this mockery of monarchies." He stepped forward, the noose around his neck tightening. "I know what you are, <em>High Queen</em> Elsa."</p><p>Saying nothing more, the Queen lifted her hand and let it fall. The executioner took the lever and tugged it back. There was the short cranking of wood as the trapdoor under Agnarr's bare feet opened, and then the sickening crack of a neck snapping. It was a short, silent struggle as Agnarr kicked his feet, fighting for leverage, eyes turned to the heavens. Eyes that grew dim until they were vacant and grey, remaining wide open even when his legs stopped twitching. </p><p>The Queen watched every second, hated every grotesque motion, and yet the awful vision inlaid itself in her memory. Agnarr the Betrayer's death was a part of her, now, his blood painted over her Name. It made her feel ill.</p><p>Finally, she looked to Iduna. The former queen's dress was torn in places, the ends of her long skirts frayed and her bodice half-unlaced. She was a sad thing, but she had also been the one who orchestrated their schemes alongside her husband and the Westergaards. Remorse changed nothing. </p><p>"Iduna-," began the Queen. </p><p>Suddenly, the woman's head shot up, her face pallid with anguish. "Please, my Queen." She said barely over a frantic whisper. "Spare my daughter. She had no part in this madness. She did not know. Spare my daughter. Please." </p><p>She began to weep as the executioner checked the knots of her noose. "Please! She did nothing! She is innocent! I swear it on the Shepherd!”</p><p>A mother would say anything to save her child. Why she was not lined here with the rest of her family, the Queen could not say. She had not yet seen nor spoken with this daughter of the Frodes. At this point, after the remaining executions of relatives, this former princess would likely be the very last Frode. Completely alone.</p><p>“Iduna.” Said the Queen. “Your daughter will suffer the penance I deem worthy of her. But rest now knowing she is yet alive. I promise you nothing, but she is alive.”</p><p>Knowing that is all she could hope for, Iduna nodded in rapid, trembling motions. Then she too turned her eyes to the bleak sky, mouth moving in whispered prayers as she sought the mercy of her gods. </p><p> A minute later, she hung dead alongside her husband.</p><p>As the priest murmured his prayers and the bodies were untied and placed in the cart, the Arch-Mage joined the Queen at her side, looming easily over the woman. Together they watched as the carts were wheeled away and the nooses were looped again, ready for Mordi Frode, brother of Agnarr, and his two sons. </p><p>“In the end, My Queen...” Said the Arch-Mage in his low, rumbling voice. “... Agnarr and Iduna believed they were doing what was best for the empire. You must take care not to hate them.”</p><p>The Queen’s gaze followed the resigned prisoners as they were led to the platform.</p><p> “I don’t hate them, Bram. I don’t even hate what they did.”</p><p>"You have redefined your reign, My Queen. This day will be remembered until the end of days." </p><p>The lever was pulled. Necks broke under the weight of their own bodies. Elsa looked away.</p><p>
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  <strong>.   .   . </strong>
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</p><p>When the door to her chambers closed, and Elsa was finally separated from the day, nausea dipped his frigid fingers into her skull. She leaned back against her door, staring first up at the ceiling of her chamber and then closing her eyes entirely. </p><p>In the darkness she saw the glint of Agnarr’s disgust, she heard Iduna’s pleas. </p><p>
  <em>"I know what you are."</em>
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  <em> “She is innocent! I swear it on the Shepherd!”  </em>
</p><p><em> Daughter, daughter… </em> Elsa mused to herself as she pushed from the door, sighing deeply and undoing her crown-braid, allowing it to fall over one shoulder. <em> I forgot to see about the daughter. </em></p><p>It was hours later, and the day had become night. She could feel the warmth of the hearth prepared by her servants, the light flickering over the decorum of her bedchamber. </p><p>
  <em> Tomorrow. I need rest.  </em>
</p><p>This place, her tower, was the only haven left to her. The only place where she was ever truly alone. Even the servants who attended her came and went as swiftly and quietly as ghosts, never to remain longer than necessary. Elsa let her arms stretch far over her head as she made for her glass balcony door, running her fingers through thick tresses of platinum-blonde hair. She stopped short as her toe grazed something cold and immobile. Looking down, she saw that it was a sphere of ebonite, a dense, ink-black metal that could only be molded by the arcane smiths of the University. The chain attached to it was delicate as a necklace: moon-silver, another mystical mineral. </p><p>With tired eyes, Elsa tracked the chain to the ankle it was bound to, and then up the shapely leg of a young woman. </p><p>The girl had pressed herself back against Elsa's vanity, one hand on her chest and the other braced against the vanity's top. The dress she wore was a temple's baptism garb that left very little to the imagination, her hair aglow in the firelight cast by the hearth that fell in curling, auburn cascades down her back and over her shoulders. Her eyes were bright with absolute terror. </p><p>Elsa's demand left her lips before she gave herself pause to think. </p><p>"Who the <em> hell </em> are you?" </p><p>The weary weight of the harrowing day fled all at once as though her whole body had been dipped in cold water. Nobody, not her personal advisors, not the ministers, not even her own servants were permitted to remain in the Queen’s Tower. It was her refuge. For the fleeting hours she spent here, she did not need to move or speak, did not need to tease the truth from lying lips, did not need to explain her action or inaction. </p><p>And yet, there was a girl, scantily-clad and looking as though she’d witnessed the rising of devils. </p><p>Elsa took a hesitant step closer, but the girl recoiled, almost climbing up on the vanity. “Please.” She said in a small voice. “No closer.”</p><p>Elsa’s breath caught in her throat, a newfound dread seeping into her chest. <em> No…  </em></p><p>She saw it in the color of her hair, the shape of her face, the blue of her eyes, even in the curves of her body. It was shocking how closely the princess resembled her mother. </p><p>She was not ready for this, godsdamnit. Gods<em> damnit </em>! Why was she here?! In her bedchambers no less! Wringing her wrists, the empress glanced away from the princess. Gods, she was not prepared for this. Who had put her in her Tower?  Was this some sort of sick joke? What did they expect her to do? Kill her here? </p><p>“Um...” She cursed her own inability to effectively communicate. "... Anna, was it?" </p><p>But the princess's attention was no longer fixed on the Queen's face. Her eyes were rooted on the queen's feet, lips parting in a stupified expression of wary astonishment and... was that awe?</p><p> </p><p>With a faltering step back, Elsa followed the princess's gaze to the floor, and to the unmistakable progress of the frost that crept across the dark wood. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OOP</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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